Tulip in The Summoning
by knowmynaem
Summary: What if Chloe wasn't the one who went to Lyle House? What if another girl did? Tulip Laniday always knew she was special, always knew she had dark, dangerous powers, but she never expected to start seeing ghosts. She wasn't ever meant to see the dead, but when you're that powerful to begin with, anything can happen. It's basically The Summoning with my own main character.
1. Once Upon a Time

**A/N: I don't own any characters besides Tulip and her family. All rights go to the author of the Darkest Powers series, Kelley Armstrong.**

**Please read and review! I appreciate any constructive feedback or comments because I want to improve my writing style. And yes, that means that you're free to completely slam any fanfiction I write.**

* * *

Once upon a time, I was born. Shocker, huh? But that's no way to start a story, especially not mine where so much has happened since the time I was born, that you'd have a helluva job cramming it all into a book, or even a series. So that's why this story doesn't really start with _I was born. _No, it starts sixteen years later, when everything was as confusing as heck.

Once upon a time, there was a girl who ended up in the rinky-dink town of Buffalo, New York so that she could sort out her emotional problems without the influence of her rambunctious siblings. Or, if you wanted more prose and less teenage angst in your opening, you could always go with _Once upon a time, there was a girl who was good at lying, running away, and making pancakes _or even _Once upon a time, there was a girl who, even though she was surrounded by people, was very alone because that's what happens when no one cares. _

Either way, my story starts in Buffalo, New York hundreds of miles away from all of my family and friends. Well, not hundreds of miles, but I have no car and I'm not allowed to visit anyone, so it's pretty much the same thing. But I can't real you into my sob story properly if I have friends and family living just a few towns over, so just focus on the fact that I'm all alone. And that, in case you haven't already figured it out, is a very sad thing indeed.

Before the school decided that I was failing just about every class because of "emotional problems" and "my situation at home," I lived with my older brother Zach because our parents had died in a Supernatural uprising when I was about five. Zach looks a bit like me, but his hair is more brown than black and his eyes are a nice common hazel. He's nice, but a little...odd. I suppose anyone would be after spending eleven years as the only living guy in the afterlife. But that's another story.

I have two other brothers too. Connor, who's the second oldest, and Riko, who's the third oldest. Connor has some freaky copper locks like our dad had and his eyes are hazel too, just like Zach's, but Riko is literally the male version of me. That's what happens when people are nearly identical twins. Other than the fact that he's a guy and his hair is shorter and he's taller than me, we look almost exactly alike.

Connor and Riko didn't live with me and Zach, though. They lived with Becky who's their foster mom and our birth mom's former teenage bestie. I was fine with it seeing as how they only lived a few blocks away and we went to school together.

Becky has mocha skin and warm brown eyes and she's always making cookies. Healthy cookies, of course, because she's a nurse and it goes against her code to feed kids unhealthy substances, but cookies all the same.

It's never really been explained why I lived with Zach and my other brothers lived with Becky, but I figured it had something to do with of money issues. I mean, a nurse has got to be making a lot more than a guy who does construction for just about anything. I couldn't come up with a reason as to why Zach was taking care of me and not anyone else and neither Becky nor Zach would answer my questions, so I was left with the really lame guess that it was because I was the youngest out of all of them.

Anyways, at school I was failing or close to failing every core class I was taking. I was getting good scores on the tests, but I rarely ever turned in my homework. The few times that I actually did turn it in, it was only half completed, and those missing and incomplete assignments were definitely taking their toll on my grades. The only class I was passing with flying colors was Art III, and that was only because all the work was done in class. You see, though the school said that my grades were obviously so bad because of a tough situation I was going through at home, I'm pretty sure it had something to do with the football jocks filling my locker with shaving cream everyday. No, I'm not just pretty sure, I'm certain.

These guys are the best players on the team-and they know it. They can't get in trouble for anything because without them, the team is nothing. For some reason, they decided that they were going to try and make my life a living nightmare. When they filled my locker, they didn't just squirt a bit in there and run off, no, they made sure that they _filled my entire locker_ with the stuff. They would even open my backpack and soak everything in there too. After a while I gave up on the homework since I saw no point in doing it if they were just going to ruin it every time.

I wasn't a natural born complainer, but the one time I brought up the situation to the Principal, he threatened to send me to detention for starting things. The funniest part about this? It was no bullying week at school. Great job, Kenmore High.

The school called in child services and they decided that I was obviously having issues somewhere and the best solution would be to remove me from those issues. So, they sent me to a foster family in Buffalo, New York. Yay. I had no friends, no family, and my backpack stunk of shaving cream. It just kept getting better and better.

I was living with some rich guy by the name of Saunders who was never around and a housekeeper. She changed every other week, for some reason, but they were all a bit alike: bossy, loud, and very very clean. They didn't like it when I walked through the house in my "filthy" shoes. Well, I didn't like it when they vacuumed at ten AM on a Saturday. Saturdays were my crash days, and on crash days I normally locked myself in my very nearly sound proof room and slept all day. But that was at home, and this place was not home, and so I stayed up on Saturday's too instead of getting the sleep I desperately needed. It was no wonder I started seeing things.

A bang at my bedroom door startled me awake, my heart threatening to pound out of my chest.

"Tulip!" The newest housekeeper shrieked. "Why hasn't your alarm gone off? I'm the housekeeper, not your nanny. If you're late again, I'm calling Mr. Saunders.

As threats went, this wasn't exactly the stuff of nightmares. For one thing, Mr. Saunders barely seemed to remember I was around. I was starting to think that he was tricked into taking me on or something. For another, I really didn't give a damn whether what he thought of me; he wasn't my dad _or _my brother.

I turned on my radio, cranked it up (because when you're given a sound system that good, it's a shame to waste it), and crawled out of bed in my usual zombie like fashion.

A half hour later I had showered, dressed, and I was in my personal bathroom contemplating my appearance. I was five foot seven, of slender build, exceptionally strong for a girl, and I had black hair, pale skin, and mismatched eyes. My eyes weren't different shapes or anything, but one was blue and the other was green. You'd think it'd be cool having such strange peepers, but let me tell you, after years of people staring and whispering you just start wishing they were some normal color.

I had a red tube of hair dye that I had bought earlier. I wanted something different, but not so different that it caused _too _much attention. Red streaks would be perfect.

"Tulip!" The door shuddered under the housekeeper's meaty fist.

"Coming!" I yelled back. I grabbed the tube of dye, stuffed it in my backpack, and threw open the door.

Milos was waiting for me in his cab at the curb. I missed my beat up truck dearly, but it was kind of nice to be driven to and from school without any worries about gas or traffic or whether or not my truck was going to be able to make it up that hill intact.

As I got in, he adjusted the visor on my side. The morning sun still hit my eyes, but I didn't tell him that.

School was horrendous. This school was about a week behind my old one so I had to sit through the same lectures about the same things every hour. The only good thing about this school was that it was some special art school, so their art classes were amazing. It was a shame I couldn't just show up for art until the rest of the classes caught up to where I was.

Throughout first and second hours I kept thinking about that tube of dye in my bag and how boring class was. When the bell rang at the end of second period, I headed straight for the bathroom.

Dying a dozen bright red streaks took twenty minutes, but I wasn't in a hurry. I'd had to take off my shirt to avoid getting dye on it, so I was standing over the sink in my bra and jeans. Luckily no one came in. I couldn't even imagine how I would explain my delinquent actions to these pompous rich kids.

I finished squeezing the strands dry with a paper towel, took a deep breath, looked...and smiled. It looked good. It gave me an edge.

The door creaked. I shoved the towels in the trash, grabbed my shirt, and dashed into a stall, just in case it was a teacher. I barely had time to latch the door before whoever it was started crying. Didn't sound like a teacher and it certainly wasn't my problem that she was having a sob fest in the bathroom, so I left. I felt a little guilty about it, but before I had time to change my mind and go back in, someone shouted, "You!"

I spun to see a custodian walking towards me, and I breathed a sigh of relief. He was middle aged, with a brush cut, wearing the school's janitorial uniform.

"I'm heading to class now, so see ya."

I started walking.

"You! Get back here. I want to talk to you."

The only other sound was my footsteps. _My _footsteps. Why couldn't I hear _his?_

I stopped and the air in front of me shimmered, a figure taking form in a custodian's shirt and slacks.

I exhaled and closed my eyes. When I opened them, the blue uniform shirt was inches from my face. I looked up…and let out a shriek.

He looked like a mannequin that had gotten too close to a fire. Face burned. Melted. One eye bulged, exposed. The other eye had slip down near his cheekbone, the whole cheek sagging, lips drooping, skin shiny and misshapen and-

The twisted lips parted. "Maybe now you'll pay attention to me."

I ran headlong down the hall. As I flew past one classroom door, it opened.

"Hey!" A man's voice. I could hear more doors opening, more teachers coming out into the hall to see the crazy chick running like her life depended on it. There was a window at the end of the hall and I aimed for that. We were two stories up, but I was hoping that if I could get out of the school, I could leave the melted janitor behind. I could make a break for it, go back to Zach's-

"Tulip!" I spun when I heard my name. It was the vice principal, Ms. Waugh, with my math teacher, Mr. Travis, and a music teacher who'd I'd seen in the halls a few times. Seeing me with my hand on the window latch, Ms. Waugh threw out her arms, blocking the two men.

"Tulip?" She said, voice low. "Honey, you need to step away from that window." I could see the janitor looming behind her. Hell no, this window was my chance at escape. I yanked at the latch again, felt it start to give, and Mr. Travis tackled me.

As we hit the floor, the air flew out of my lungs. Scrambling off, he accidentally kneed me in the stomach. I fell back, doubled over, wheezing. I opened my eyes to see the custodian standing over me. I shot up, ready to make a break for it, but the two male teachers were holding my arms while Ms. Waugh babbled into a cell phone.

The custodian leaned through Mr. Travis. "Now will you talk to me, girl? Can't get away."

I struggled against the teachers, but they only held me tighter. The custodian pushed his face into mine and it changed into that horrible melted mask, so close I was staring into his one bulging eye, almost out of its socket.

Finally, two men in uniforms hurried through the halls. One helped the teachers restrain me while the other moved behind, out of my sight. Fingers tightened on my forearm. Then a needle prick. Ice slid through my veins.

The walls started to sway. The custodian faded, blinking in and out.

"No!" he yelled. "I need to speak to her. Don't you understand? She can hear me. I only want…"

His voice faded as the paramedics lowered me onto a stretcher. It rose, swaying. Rocking me…like mom did when she was still alive. Back and forth, _don't worry, don't fret_.

The custodian's howl of rage sliced through my memory. "Don't take her away. I need her!"

My eyes drooped and my thoughts got foggy. Where was Zach? I needed Zach, didn't I?

I sat on the edge of the hospital and listened to Dr. Fellows explain my situation. I was going to a group home. At least, that's what they called it, but anybody could tell they meant a nutter's house. A place where the crazy kids grew up away from innocent people. None of my pleas of innocence mattered. I was nuts. I probably shouldn't have run to the nearest window and started yanking on it like I was going to jump (which I was) because we were on the second story and there was nearly a dozen teachers watching me spaz and attempt "suicide" (which I wasn't) and that really hadn't helped my case.

When I got there, everyone was gone. The really old lady, Mrs. Talbot, said that they had left so I could get used to the house which they called Lyle House after the original owner. Ha, get used to the house? I was doped up and sleep deprived; _I _was having a crash day. The room was small and split into two sides.

One was covered with magazine cutouts and clothes and other personal artifacts, the other side was blank. I threw myself on the blank side's bed and fell fast asleep.

I woke to the _clink-clink _of metal hangers. A blond girl flipped through clothes that I was pretty sure were mine, hung up yesterday by Mrs. Talbot while I slept.

"Can I help you?" I said.

She turned and smiled. _An optimist for sure, _I thought bitterly. "Hi! What's your name?"

"Tulip."

"Liz. Like Lizzie McGuire." She waved at an old and faded magazine cutout on her wall. "Except, I don't go by Lizzie, `cause I think it sounds kind of-"she lowered her voice, as if not to offend the picture Lizzie "-babyish."

She continued talking, but I didn't hear it because all I could think was, I got stuck with a perky blond, God, save me or kill me now, don't make me put up with this. I was also wondering, What's wrong with her? If she was at Lyle House, there was something wrong with her. Some "mental condition."

She didn't look crazy. Her long hair was brushed into a gleaming ponytail. She wore Guess jeans and a Gap T-shirt. If I didn't know better, I'd think I'd woken up in a boarding school.

She kept talking. Maybe that was a sign.

She seemed harmless enough, though. She'd have to be, wouldn't she? They wouldn't put anyone dangerous in here. Or _really _crazy.

_Oh no, Tulip. They don't put any really crazy people in here, just the ones who see burned-up janitors and try to jump from windows. _Oh, shut up! I told my inner pessimist. I had magic, dark magic, running through my veins. That must have caused my whole hallucination. Or maybe it was just because I was sleep deprived. Even more likely, it was a combination of the two. I wasn't crazy. Not yet, anyways.

"Come on," she said. "Breakfast's in five minutes, and they get real snippy if you're late." Liz put out a hand as I opened a dresser drawer. "You can wear your pajamas down to breakfast. The guys eat lunch and dinner with us, but they eat breakfast later, so we get some privacy.

"Guys?" I liked guys. They didn't freak out over spiders or thunder or anything like the girls I knew did. Sometimes, they were also drool-worthy, but I considered that a bonus. Mostly I just liked the idea of not having only having girls to talk to.

"Simon, Derek, and Peter."

Only three guys? Well, I guess that made sense if the house was small. As long as there was at least one guy I could actually hold a conversation with, I'd be happy.

She pursed her lips in the mirror and picked off a dry flake. "We all share the bottom floor, but the top one is divided."

She leaned out the door and showed me how short the hall was. "They get the other side. There's not even a joining door. Like we'd sneak over there at night if we could." She giggled. "Well, Tori would. And I might, if there was someone worth sneaking over for. Tori has dibs on Simon." She scrutinized me in the mirror. I could feel her taking in my pale complexion, my black hair with the dyed red streaks, my blue and green eyes. I looked away; I was tired of people judging me. "You might like Peter. He's cute but way to young for me. He's thirteen. Almost fourteen, I think. How old are you?"

"I'm sixteen. Just turned last month."

She bit her lip. "Oh, geez. Um, anyway, Peter won't be around much longer. I heard he's going home soon." She paused. "Sixteen, huh? What grade?"

"Tenth."

"Same as me and Simon, Derek, and Rae. Tori's in ninth. I think Simon and Rae are still fifteen, though. And did I say I love your hair? I wanted to do that, with blue streaks, but my mom said…"

Liz kept up the commentary as we headed downstairs, moving on to the whole cast of characters. There was Dr. Gill, the psychologist, but she only came in for her office hours, as did the tutor, Ms. Wang.

I'd met two of the three nurses. Mrs. Talbot-the older woman, whom Liz proclaimed "really nice," and the younger Miss Van Dop, who was, she whispered, "not so nice." The third nurse, Mrs. Abdo, worked weekends, giving the others each a day off. They lived in and looked after us. They sounded more like the housemothers I'd heard boarding school kids talk about, but Liz called them nurses.

At the bottom of the stairs, the overpowering stink of lemon cleaner hit me. It smelled like my older brother Zach's apartment where he was a clean freak and sprayed everything with lemon water or something. The living room wasn't an immaculate place with pristine leather couches or a dirty dark hovel with rusted springs sticking from the chair cushions. It was clean-the carpet spotless, the wood gleaming-but it had a worn comfortable look that invited you to curl up on the sofa.

It was also painted the favored color for Lyle House-a pale yellow this time. Pillows covered the dark blue sofa and two rocking chairs. An old grandfather clock ticked in the corner. Every end table held a vase of daisies or daffodils. Bright and cheerful. Too bright and cheerful, really, like it was so desperate to be homey that it seemed more like a stage set than someone's house. I guess it made sense. It was meant to make you forget you were at a place for crazy kids and not snug at home.

Liz stopped me outside the dining room so we could peek in.

On one side of the table sat a tall girl with short dark hair. "That's Tori. Victoria, but she likes Tori. With an _i. _She's my best friend. She gets moody, and I've heard that's why she's here, but I think she's fine." She jerked her chin toward the other person at the table-a pretty, copperskinned girl with long dark curls. "That's Rachelle. Rae. She has this 'thing' for fire."

I studied the girl. Thing for fire? Did that mean she _set _fires? God, I had just about had enough with pyros. Always burning stuff up and then trying to blame it on the nearest bystander. Usually me, since I had enough of a reputation to make their accusations plausible. I couldn't remember all the times I'd gotten suspended for supposedly starting a fire on school grounds. Yeah, it'd occurred to me to rat the pyros out, but I'd never done it and I didn't think I would. _I _wasn't going to be a tattletale.

My stomach growled and I rubbed it.

"Someone's hungry, I see," chirped a voice.

I glanced up to see Mrs. Talbot coming through what I guessed was the kitchen door, milk pitcher in hand. She smiled at me.

"Come in, Tulip. Let me introduce you."

Before breakfast, Miss Van Dop gave us all pills, then watched as we took them. It was creepy. No one said a word, just held out their hands, gulped their pill down with water, and returned to their conversations.

When I stared at mine, Miss Van Dop said the Doctor would explain everything later, but for now, I should just take it. I wasn't so sure though, so I tucked it in the corner of my mouth instead and drank a bit of water, pretending to swallow it down. Later, I spat it in my napkin when I wiped my mouth. The pill left a medicine taste burning in the side of my mouth.

After we'd eaten, we trooped upstairs to dress. Rae was in the lead, followed by Liz and Tori. Then me.

"Rachelle?" Tori called.

Rae's shoulders tightened and she didn't turn. I'd seen enough bullying to know that Rae was just a little bit afraid of Tori and whatever Tori had done in the past. "Yes, Victoria?"

Tori climbed two more steps, closing the gap between them. "You did get the laundry done, right? It's your turn, and I want to wear that new shirt my mom bought me."

Rae slowly turned. "Mrs. T. said I could do laundry today, since we had to take off while-" her gaze lit on me, and she offered a tiny, almost apologetic smile "-Tulip got settled."

I could sense a fight heating up. It seemed like, though the topic might have been new, they'd had this fight numerous times before.

"So you didn't do the laundry."

"That's what I said."

"But I want-"

"Your shirt. Got that part. So wear it. It's brand-new."

"Yeah, and other people probably tried it on. That's gross."

Rae threw up her hands and disappeared down the hall. Tori shot a scowl over her shoulder, as if this were my fault. _Well, Miss Pampered Princess, hate to break it to you, but things don't always go the way you want. _I would bet anything I had that she was rich. That she'd never had to skip out on breakfast because there was nothing to eat. That she'd never had to get a crappy job because some pay was better than no pay at all. Bitch. I didn't have a reason to hate her yet, but I expected there would be one soon.

Over her shoulder, a hand appeared, pale fingers wriggling like worms. I gasped.

"Tulip?" Liz said.

I shook my head, trying to clear the hand from my sight. It was just a trick of the light, wasn't it?

"Listen-girl-" A man's voice whispered in my ear.

Liz came down the two steps between us and laid her fingers on my arm. "Are you okay? You're all white."

"I'm fine. Just thought I heard something."

"Girls?" Mrs. Talbot peered around the hall doorway below. "You know you aren't supposed to fool around on the stairs. Someone could get hurt. Class is in ten minutes. Tulip, we're still waiting for notes from your teachers, so you won't be in class today. When you're dressed, we'll discuss your schedule."


	2. Trust Goes Both Ways

**A/N: Again, I don't own anything but Tulip and her friends. **

**I've been thinking of setting a date for updating. Like, I'll add another chapter every Friday or something. I think it'd be good for me to work on a schedule, but I'm kind of afraid that, if I try to, life will be like "haha, nope! I'm gonna keep you busy till Christmas." Maybe I'll try it. We'll see. Anyway, R&R please!**

* * *

Lyle house liked schedules the way a boot camp likes discipline.

We rose at 7:30. Ate, showered, dressed, and were in class by 9:00 where we did independent work assigned by our regular teacher, supervised by the tutor, Ms. Wang. Break at 10:30 for a snack-nutritious, of course. Back to class. Break for lunch at noon. Back to class from 1:00 until 4:30 with a twenty-minute break at 2:30. At some point during classes-the timing would vary-we'd have our individual hour-long therapy session with Dr. Gill; my first would be after lunch today. From 4:30 until 6:00, we had free time…kind of. In addition to classes and therapy, we had chores. A lot of chores from the looks of the list. These had to be done during our free time before and after dinner. Plus we had to squeeze in thirty minutes of physical activity every day. Then after a snack, it was off to bed at 9:00, lights-out at 10:00.

Nutritious snacks? Therapy sessions? Chore lists? Mandatory exercises? Nine o'clock bedtime?

All I wanted to do was wake up in my own bed in my own room with the sudden and freeing knowledge that this whole ordeal had been a dream. Or, just as good, I wanted Zach to storm in here and take me home. In my gut, though, I knew that neither of these would happen. I was stuck here until they decided that I was "cured".

I didn't belong here. I really didn't.

After our talk, a phone call sent Mrs., Talbot scurrying off, calling back promises to return with my job list. Oh joy. I had had to do chores at home, yeah, but I didn't have a list. It was more of a 'if it's dirty and you know it, clean it' sort of deal. Zach and I didn't need a list to tell us what needed to be done and who had to do it.

I sat in the living room trying to think, but the unrelenting cheerfulness was like a bright light shining in my eyes, making it hard to concentrate. A few days of yellow paint and daisies and I'd turn into a happy zombie, like Liz.

I rubbed the back of my neck and closed my eyes, welcoming the darkness. Yellow spots the color of the walls glowed against the backs of my eyelids.

Lyle house wasn't so bad, really. Better than padded rooms and endless hallways filled with _real _zombies, shambling mental patients so doped up that their lives were endless foggy days of drugs and blurred faces. Maybe it was the illusion of home that bothered me. Maybe, in some ways, I'd be happier if everything wasn't made to make you feel welcome. If there were white walls and ugly couches and bars on all the windows. I was tired of it feeling like a lie.

And yet…Just because I couldn't see any bars didn't mean it wasn't as open as it seemed. It couldn't be.

I walked to the front window. Closed, despite the sunny day. There was a hole where there had probably once been a latch for opening it. I looked out. Lots of trees, a quiet street, older houses on big lots. No electric fences. No sign on the lawn proclaiming Lyle House for Crazy Kids. All very ordinary, but I suspected if I grabbed a chair and smashed the window, an alarm would sound.

So where was the alarm?

I stepped into the hall, glanced at the front door, and saw it, blinking away. No attempt to hide it. It was like a reminder: This might look like your house, but don't try walking out the front door.

What about the back? I thought I remembered it being fenced in back there-would they wire that as well or did they think a fence was enough to pen us in?

I went into the dining room and looked out the window into a large yard with as many trees as the front. There was a shed, lawn chairs, and gardens. The soccer ball on one wooden chair and the basketball hoop over a cement pad suggested we were allowed out-probably for that "thirty minutes of physical activity." Was it monitored? I couldn't see any obvious cameras, but there were enough windows for the nurses to keep an eye on anyone in the yard. I was right about the fence. It was too high for someone to clear without being noticed. Something they intended, I imagine.

"Looking for a way out?"

I spun to see Miss Van Dop. Her eyes glittered with what looked like amusement, but her face was solemn.

I thought about saying, _Yes-what's the code? _but I figured that I had gotten in enough trouble already, so I just shook my head. "I was just looking around. Oh, and while I was getting dressed, I noticed I'm missing some jewelry." One of my hands trailed across my blank ears, feeling for the row of earrings that I no longer wore. "I think my earrings might have been left at the hospital and I'd like to get them back. Some of them are kind of special."

"I'll let Mr. Saunders know, but someone will have to hold the flashier ones for you. We allow our girls to wear simple earrings, but overall we don't like our girls wearing jewelry. Now as for looking around…"

She pulled out a dining room chair and motioned for me to sit. I did.

"I'm sure you saw the security system at the front door," she said.

Well, it wasn't hard to find, I thought cynically. "I wasn't-"

"Trying to escape. I know." The smile touched her lips.

_Huh. _Maybe I was a better liar than I thought.

"Most of our residents aren't the sort of teenagers who run away from home unless it's to make a statement. They're bright enough to know that whatever is out there is worse than what's out here. And what's in here isn't so bad. Not Disney World, but not prison either. The only escape attempts we've ever had are from kids trying to sneak out to see friends. Hardly serious, but parents expect better security from us; and, while we pride ourselves on providing a homelike environment, I think it's important to point out the limits early."

She waited as if for a response. I nodded slowly.

"The windows are armed with a siren, as are the exterior doors. You are allowed out the back only, and there is no gate. Because of the alarm, you must notify us before going out so we can disable it and, yes, watch you. If you have any questions about what you can and cannot do, come to me. I won't sugarcoat it for you, Tulip. I believe honesty is the first step to establishing trust, and trust is critical in a place like this."

Again her gaze pierced mine, probing, making sure I understood the other side of that statement-that honesty went both ways and I was expected to keep up my end.

It was a shame I'd already failed that test.

Meeting her eyes with my best _I'm not guilty _look, I nodded.

Mrs. Talbot set me up to peel carrots after lunch. I didn't dare ask her if she really trusted me with a sharp object. As soon as she left the kitchen, I did a quick scope. I guessed that the sharper tools were in the two drawers with locks, but the rest of the stuff was just out there for us to get whenever we wanted. They even kept cleaners and a dusty container of rat poison under their sink.

As I peeled my mind started to wander. This was a place for crazy kids, wasn't it? Crazy people were usually unpredictable, so why put dangerous stuff right next to the food we were all going to eat? If I wanted to, I could dust everything in the fridge with rat poison or dose the milk with something, and no one would know until-

"Peeling duty already?" A boy's voice whispered. "What'd you do to deserve that?"

I jumped and wheeled around, the peeler held in my hand like a weapon. There was a guy who looked to be about my age or maybe a little older. He was about my height and slender, with high cheekbones and dark blond hair worn in short, messy spikes. His almond-shaped brown eyes danced with amusement.

"You must be Tulip."

He reached out. I jumped back, waving the peeler threateningly. He stopped and arched a brow. I opened my mouth, but he put a finger to his lips, then pointed at the dining room door. Beyond it, Mrs. Talbot was talking to Liz.

"I'm not supposed to be in here," he whispered. "I'm Simon, by the way. Please don't stab me."

I was suddenly aware that he was standing between me and _the only exit._ Every horror movie scene where the killer corners the girl in the kitchen flashed through my mind. At least there weren't any carving knives in easy reach. He looked friendly and he was cute, but that didn't mean anything. I met his eyes, searching for a sign in them, and he flashed me what I bet was his famous smile. He looked like the kind of guy that would have one.

He backed up to the walk-in pantry, lifted a finger telling me to wait, then disappeared inside. I relaxed a bit as soon as I heard him rooting around on the shelves. When I peeked in, he was taking down a box of graham crackers.

As long as he just wanted food, I was okay with him being there. But if he suddenly pulled a machete out...

"The other one's already open," I whispered, pointing.

"Thanks, but he'll want the whole thing. Right, bro?"

I followed his gaze over my shoulder and saw…another guy. He was maybe six feet tall with shoulders as wide as the door. Though he was as big as an adult, he'd never be mistaken for one. His face could've been used as the "before" picture for acne cream. Dark hair hung in his eyes, lank and dull. Poor guy. Puberty was a pain.

He had this look about him like he knew what it was like to be a regular person, not a wealthy has-it-all. It made me connect with him more than Simon. Simon was nice, but it seemed like an all-around type of kindness. You existed, therefore he was nice. He was one of the few people could get away with that, too, because he was the kind of guy that'd be Mr. Popular anywhere he went.

The tall boy, however, didn't have that kind of freedom and I bet his reactions towards someone would be a lot more real than Simon's. Like me. If I was nice to you, it was because I liked you, not because of anything else. I didn't care if you were the prom queen or the next president, I either liked you or I didn't and it was as simple as that.

"Hey," I said, offering a small smile.

He reached past me and took the crackers from Simon. When he started to retreat, Simon grabbed the back of his shirt.

"We're still teaching him manners," he said to me. "Derek, Tulip. Tulip, my brother, Derek."

"Brother?" I said. _No way. _They looked nothing alike. I couldn't even see them being half-brothers.

"Yeah." Derek's voice was a low rumble. "Identical twins."

"I can see the resemblance," I shot back. Damn smart ass. I wasn't good at coming up with good come backs on the spot.

"He's my foster brother," Simon interjected. "So, I was about to tell Tulip-"

"We done here?" Derek said. I snorted. Yeah. Very honest with his feelings, this one.

Simon waved him away, then rolled his eyes. "Sorry. Anyway, I was just going to say welcome-"

"Simon?" Tori's voice echoed through the kitchen. "Aha. I thought I heard you." Her fingers closed around the pantry door. "You and Derek, always raiding the-"

She spotted me and her eyes narrowed. Great. She was jealous. I met her angry gaze levelly; looking away would be like submitting to her, and I wasn't ready to sink that low just yet.

"Tori?" Simon said.

Her expression flipped from simmering to simpering. Man, that girl had it _bad. _"Yes?"

He jabbed a finger toward the dining room door. "Shhh!"

As she babbled apologies, I made my escape.

* * *

**A/N: Just some things to know about Tulip...**

**-She's lower middle class and has this thing against the uber rich. Mostly because she's been tormented by them.**

**-She doesn't take any crap from anyone**

**-She's a lot tougher than Chloe Saunders was**

**-She likes Derek more than Simon because she thinks Derek seems more "real"**

**-She ****_really _****want to get out of Lyle House**

**-She knows that she has dark magic but she doesn't know that being a necromancer is part of the** **deal**


	3. Yep, I'm a Freak

**A/N: (No homework + three day weekend)-Five amazing books=early release on the third chapter **

**I finished all of my homework AND the five books I had put aside for this weekend and so, bored out of my mind, I decided to go ahead and write another chapter, just for you guys.**

**The anonymous review I had waiting for me really made my day too. I was starting to think that my version was so horrible no one was going say anything. At least someone likes it! So, enjoy!**

* * *

After I finished the carrots, Mrs. Talbot said I could have free time until lunch and directed me to the media room. If I was hoping for a big-screen TV with surround sound and a top-of-the-line computer, I was out of luck. There was a twenty-inch TV, a cheap DVD/VCR combo, an old Xbox, and an even older computer. One flip through the movie collection and I knew I wouldn't be spending much time here…unless I was suddenly nostalgic for the Olsen twins. The only movie rated above PG was _Jurassic Park, _and it was labeled "Please ask before viewing," like I had to show my school ID card to prove that I was over thirteen.

I turned on the computer. It took five minutes to boot up. Compared to the speed of our computer at home, that was like the speed of light. It was a Windows 98; an older, trickier computer, but I could deal with that.

I searched for a browser. I'd hoped for Firefox, but I wasn't getting anything better than plain old IE. I could deal with that too, just as long as there was an internet connection. I typed in a URL and held my breath, expecting a "cannot connect to the internet message." Instead the page popped up. Guess we weren't as cut off from the outside world as I'd feared.

Automatically, I went to MSN. The browser chugged away for a minute, then brought up a "Page cannot be displayed" message. I tried Hotmail. Same thing.

They must have blocked the e-mail sites so no one could get a message out there. It was just like the killer in the horror movies cutting the phone lines so no one can call for help. I shuddered. This place was constantly reminding me of a horror movie scene that fit the part. Maybe it was a sign.

Desperately, I tried Gmail, Yahoo, and any other e-mail site I could think of. None of them popped up. I tried to Google e-mail sites that would fly under the radar of whatever was blocking me, but none of them worked. I thumped my head on the table. Thwarted by technology. I was doomed to be locked away in a group home for _forever._

"Tulip, there you are."

I turned just as Mrs. Talbot walked in.

"I was just…" I waved at the screen, "I wanted to check my e-mail, but I keep getting this."

She walked over, glanced at the screen and sighed. "It's that Net Nanny software or whatever they use. It does more than block some Web sites. You can send and receive email through our account. You need to use the e-mail program that came with the computer, and get Miss Van Dop to type in the password so you can send it. A pain, I know, but we had a problem last year accessing sites he shouldn't have and when the board of directors found out…" She shook her head. "We're punishing everyone because of one bad apple, I'm sorry to say. Now, it's time for lunch."

I made sure to delete my suspicious browser history before I left.

I met the last housemate, Peter, over lunch. He said hello, asked how things were going, then turned his attention to his PSP as he ate. Like everything else at Lyle house, it was all very normal. Too normal. Every time someone moved, I tensed, waiting for her to start speaking in tongues or screaming about bugs crawling all over his plate. No one did.

The food was decent enough, but I could have made better. A homemade casserole, chock-full of vegetables and meat. Healthy, I was sure, like the milk and whole wheat rolls we had to go with it. For dessert, we'd been promised Jell-O. I didn't like Jell-O. Food was not supposed to look and feel like an alien creature.

The sirens and screeching tires from Peter's game provided most of the meal's soundtrack. Rae was a no-show. Tori and Liz twittered together, too low for me to join in. Derek was too busy inhaling his food to talk.

So it was left to Simon to play host. He asked what part of the city I was from. I froze, not knowing how to continue. I had no clue where my foster family lived at; I'd only lived with them a couple of weeks before being sent here. "I just moved to Buffalo," I finally admitted. "I'm a little unsure of the territory."

His response to that was to tell me that they'd moved around a lot-him and Derek-so he understood. He then proceeded to tell me all of his worst-move-ever stories. He must have been the type of guy who liked to hear his own voice because I was sure my face was conveying the boredom I felt. Tori jumped in with her own tale of moving horror-from her upstairs bedroom to her basement. Simon let her ramble for about two minutes before asking what grade I was in and at what school.

I knew he was just being polite-including the new girl in conversation-but if Tori had been a cartoon character, smoke would have billowed from her ears. I'd met girls like that. Territorial, whether it was about a hairbrush, a best friend, or a boy they had their eye on. If I had actually liked Simon, I would've understood her jealousy, but it wasn't like that. She was seeing something where there wasn't anything, and I could tell she was going to raise a fuss over it.

"Art school," she breathed. "Isn't that just _fascinating. _Tell me, Tulip. What do you study there? Ghost photography? Ghost writing?"

I choked on a chunk of meat. _Here we go. _

"Oh." Tori turned doe eyes on Simon. "Didn't Tulip tell you why she's here? She sees dead people."

Peter lifted his head from his game. "Really? Cool."

When I looked up, Derek's fork was stopped halfway to his mouth, green eyes piercing the curtain of hair as he stared at me, lip curled as if to say _What kind of freak thinks she sees ghosts?_

"It's not like that. I-"

"So what is it, then?" Tori interrupted. "Why do you see ghosts? Drugs? Voodoo? Let's hear it, Tulip."

Simon glared at her. "Stop being such a bitch, Tori."

She froze, mouth open, a still shot of humiliated horror. Derek returned to his lunch.

"I didn't mean it that way," Tori said, words tumbling out. "Like Peter said, it's kinda cool. If she does see ghosts, maybe she could help Liz with her, you know, poltergeist."

"Tori!" Liz shrieked, dropping her fork. This information was obviously something she hadn't wanted to be shared, and Tori had just spilled the beans.

"Here we go," Derek grumbled.

Liz's eyes filled as she screeched back her chair, the high pitched noise making me wince. Tori retreated into stumbling apologies again. Simon grabbed Liz's glass before she knocked it flying. Peter hunched over his game, looking like he was attempting to block out all of the drama going on around him. Derek took advantage of the chaos to scoop the last of the casserole. That had to have been his third or fourth helping and I was starting to wonder where it all went.

The kitchen door flew open and Mrs. Talbot appeared, but her words were beat back by the cacophony.

Rae appeared in the other doorway holding a basket of dirty laundry.

"Last call," she said. "Any more?"

No one else noticed, much less heard her. I glanced around and realized with all the commotion no one would notice if I left. So I did.

They knew. Everyone knew.

I wondered what they thought of me. Though I didn't really care in the long run, it was still a little painful to think of everyone considering me a freak. They couldn't know that I wasn't altogether human. That I was part of a whole other world where magic was a given and demons and other not-quite-human "people" were your friends and neighbors.

I pitied _and_ envied them for being normal. They didn't know what existed right under their noses. They would never experience the thrill of magic or meet an ex-goddess, but their lives were safer than mine for this. They wouldn't have to worry that the disagreement between two races might start a war or that the magic might consume them, because these things didn't concern them. Their lives were terribly bland most of the time, but they only had human evils to bother with. Me? I had both human and nonhuman problems. It was a price you paid to be part of this world.

I had to think about everything. I had to anticipate outcomes and formulate a plan after Tori's latest episode and I had to figure out how to get out of here. I couldn't do that downstairs where the walls were that horrid yellow and Tori and Liz were fighting, so I went upstairs.

Or, I tried too, anyways.

"Can I help you, Tulip?"

Two steps down from the top, I stopped and turned to see Miss Van Dop below.

"I was just going up to my room. I-"

"Come down, Tulip."

"I don't have classes, so I thought-"

"Tulip. Come down here. Now."

She waited until I was almost there then said, "At Lyle House, bedrooms are for sleeping."

"I-"

"I know you're probably tires and feeling overwhelmed, but you need activity and interaction, not isolation. Rae's getting a head start on the laundry before afternoon classes. If you've finished lunch, you can go help her."

She walked away, leaving me to make my decision. Making a face at her back, I started to turn around, intent on going upstairs, but then I recalled our previous conversation about trust going both ways. Sighing, I headed towards the basement door, grumbling under my breath about nurses who wouldn't let a person get a word in edgewise.

I braced myself as I opened the basement door, expecting a descent down creaky wooden steps into a dark, damp basement. Instead, I saw gleaming stairs, the passage brightly lit, the walls painted pale green with a flowery border. I grimaced. Basements were _not _supposed to look like this.

The laundry room had a tile floor, an old recliner, a washer and dryer, and a bunch of cupboards and shelves. Zero "old basement" creep factor.

The washing machine was running, but there was no sign of Rae.

I looked across the room, toward a closed door. As I walked to it, I picked up an acrid smell.

Smoke?

It didn't smell like tobacco, so I was pretty sure Rae wasn't smoking a cigarette. That meant she was burning something. Oh joy. I turned to go back upstairs, and saw Rae squeezed between two towers of shelves.

Her lips formed a silent oath as she shook her hand, putting out a match. I looked for a fire, but there wasn't one-just the smoldering match.

I heard Liz's voice again: _She has this "thing" for fire_.

Rae looked up and saw me. She jumped forward, getting between me and the door, hand's flying up.

"No, no, it's not like it seems. I wasn't going to do anything. I don't-" She slowed, seeing she had my attention. "I don't start fires. They wouldn't let me stay here if I did. Ask anyone. I just like fire."

"Okay."

She noticed me looking at the matchbook and pocketed it.

"I, uh, noticed you didn't get lunch," I said, trying to get past the awkward conversation we'd just had. "Can I get you something?"

Her face brightened at my lame attempt at kindness. "Thanks. But I'll grab an apple before class. I use any excuse to avoid eating with Queen Victoria. You saw what she's like. With me, it's food. If I take a big helping or seconds or dessert, she gets her jabs in."

I must have looked confused, because she waved a hand down her body.

"Yes, I could stand to lose a few pounds, but I don't need her as my personal dietitian." She moved to a pile of unsorted laundry. "My advice? Steer clear of her. She's like these monsters I saw in an old sci-fi film, vampires from space, only they didn't drink blood, they sucked out all your energy."

I hadn't seen that film, but I bet Zach had. He was into the older movies, especially sci-fi. Sometimes he would recite entire conversations during dinner, just to annoy me. There, I hadn't enjoyed having to listen to what some scientist and his assistant had to day, but now that I was here, I missed those random outbursts.

I looked at the pile of laundry. "Can I help?"

After a few minutes of working together, she said, "Does it make sense to you?"

"What?"

"Putting a girl in a place like this because she likes fire."

"Well, if that's all…"

"There's more, but it's small stuff, related to the fire thing. Nothing dangerous. I don't hurt myself or anyone else."

She returned to her sorting and I mulled over her words. What exactly did she mean by "small stuff"?

"Do you like manga?" She asked after a minute. "Anime?"

"I'm not really into it, but I have a friend who is."

"Well, I'm into it. I watch the shows, read the books, chat on the boards, and all that. But this girl I know, she's completely into it. She spends most of her allowance on the books and DVDs. She can recite dialogue from them." She caught my gaze. "Would you say _she _belongs here?"

"No. Most people are that away about something, right? It's like an addiction that doesn't hurt anyone."

"But no one would say that makes you crazy. You're just crazy about something. Fascinated by it. Just like-" she took the matchbook from her pocket and waggled it "-me and fire."

The door at the top of the stairs clicked.

"Girls?" Mrs. Talbot called. "Are you still down there?"

Her footsteps tapped down before we could answer. As her shadow rounded the corner, I snatched the matchbook from Rae's outstretched hand and hid it under the shirt I'd been folding.

"Rae?" Mrs. Talbot said. "Your classes are starting. Tulip-"

"I'll finish up here, then come up."

Mrs. Talbot left. I passed Rae back her matchbook and she mouthed her thanks, then followed the nurse up the stairs. And I was left alone in the basement.

* * *

**A/N: Here's an idea. If you don't feel like writing a full blown review to point out all of my flaws, why don't you rate it out of 5 stars or give me a quick "like", "hate", or even a "too soon to tell" message. **

**I'd at least like to know what people think of it so far so that I can try to improve it. Thanks for your time!**


	4. Slut Panties

**A/N: This chapter is pretty short, just under 1000 words, but at least it's something, right? I'm planning on uploading some more later this week, so don't worry. :) **

**My cousin, Missy Ann, recently brought up the idea that I sould make a series of random one shots involving her and Derek because he is "sexier than her dresser" (her words, not mine, by the way) and I have the power to get the two of them together. I've been considering it, but (and this is my final answer, Missy Ann!) I am NOT doing anything M rated, no matter how much she wants me too. It's mildly awkward writing a sex scene between two fictional characters, there's no way I'm writing one involving my cousin. *Shudders* So, any thoughts on that?**

**Please read, enjoy, and review!**

* * *

I tossed a pair of pink underwear marked Liz into a pile, then stopped. Did we wash the guys' underwear too? I really hoped not. I was okay with washing Zach's-he was my brother, after all-but washing the underwear of some guy I didn't really know… Talk about awkward. I sifted through the pile, finding only ones for Rae, Liz, and Tori, and exhaled in relief.

"Girl…"

A man's voice over my head. I stiffened, but forced myself to keep sorting. Surely I wasn't _actually _going nuts. Didn't you get some sort of notice from the powers that be if that started happening? I hadn't gotten a phone call or even a sticky note so I was sure I was fine. It was just a side effect of turning sixteen and having wicked awesome magic. The voices and grimacing dead would disappear in time and everything would go back to normal…

No one was here. Or, if someone was, he wasn't real. This was how I needed to handle it. I didn't need to jump out the window like a scared cat, I needed to tough it out. I'd hear the voices, see the dead, and ignore it until it all went away.

"…come here…" Ignoring it was easier said than done.

The voice had moved across the room. I lifted a red thong labeled Tori and grimaced. Slut panties, my brother Connor called them. I thought of my own faded and unraveling girl boxers.

"…over here…"

I tried to focus on how I could convince Zach to buy me some new boxers before anyone else washed mine. Maybe the nurses would let me call him...?

Ah, to hell with it.

I glanced across the room. No one was there. I wasn't sure whether to be happy because I wasn't going to be tormented by melting people, or upset because I was hearing voices. I sighed and returned to sorting.

"…door…closed…"

I looked at the closed door. The one I'd noticed earlier, which was obviously my proof that the voice was just my overactive imagination. I'd seen the door and somehow inserted it into my delusions. I resisted the urge to facepalm. How stupid did I have to be?

I knew that there was another world out there where this stuff _did _happen. I was part of that world-why shouldn't I hear voices? I wasn't crazy, just otherworldly.

"Open the door…something…show you…"

It was a classic movie scene. Open the door because the voices tell you to, little girl. Nooo, there's not a monster in there… This was the part where everyone in the audience would be screaming at me, _"Don't do it!" _I laughed nervously.

Get a grip, Tu, I told myself sternly. Toughen up or you'll never get up. Since when has a _voice _scared you?

My gaze snuck to the door. It looked like an ordinary closet. What was stopping me from opening it? It probably held boxes of stuff…or the Bogeyman. Either way, my curiosity was starting to get the best of me.

I strode to the door.

"Good…come…"

That made me hesitate, but just for a moment, then I was moving again. I grasped the doorknob, the metal cold under my fingers.

"…open…"

I turned the handle slowly. It went a quarter turn, then stopped. I jiggled it.

"Locked." My voice echoed through the laundry room.

I jangled it again, then twisted sharply. The door didn't budge. I cocked my head and studied the lock. It was cheaply made and I could probably break it if I tried, but then someone would notice. Maybe a bobby pin? I didn't think I had any with me, but one of the girls probably did.

"Key…find…unlock…"

I pressed my fingers to my temples. It was just a stupid closet. I had no real reason to open it, so, unless it was easy, I wasn't going to try real hard. "The door is locked and I'm going upstairs," I answered.

As I turned, I smacked into a wall of solid flesh and stumbled back. I would have fallen if the door hadn't been right behind me. I looked up to see Derek scrutinizing me. "God," I breathed. "Do you levitate?"

"Who were you talking to?" he asked.

"Myself." I rolled my eyes like, _aren't you so ignorant._

"Huh."

"Now, if you'll _move…_"

When he didn't budge, I sidestepped to get around him. He moved into my path. "You know, when I said 'move' I meant _out of my goddamn way!_"

"You saw a ghost, didn't you?" He said, indifferent to my outburst. _Oh, _he was starting to piss me off.

"Hate to break it to you, but there's no such thing as ghosts, Dee."

"Huh."

His gaze traveled around the laundry room, like a cop searching for an escaped convict. When he turned that piercing look on me, its intensity nearly sucked the backbone out of me.

"What do you see, Tulip?"

"I see a washer, a dryer, your giant self... Do I need to go on?"

"Stop messing around." He snapped the words, impatient. "What do the ghosts look like? Do they talk to you?"

"You really want to know?"

"Yeah."

I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth, then lifted onto my tiptoes. He bent to listen.

"They wear white sheets with big eye holes and they say 'Boo!'" I glowered up at him. "I. Don't. See. Ghosts. Now get out of my way, _please._"

I expected him to sneer. Cross his arms and say, _Make me, little girl. _I hoped he could tell that if he did that I was going to kick him where it hurt with my handy-dandy steel toed boots.

His lips twitched and I steeled myself. My legs tensed and my hands balled into fists. It was then I realized he was smiling. Laughing at me.

He stepped aside and I swept up the stairs, accidentally banging into the railing with my hip on the way up.

* * *

***Note: I didn't mean to offend any thong wearing people. It's just something a friend of mine said and I found it amusing. I honestly don't care what kind of underwear you wear as long as your pants fit properly.**


	5. The Diagnosis

**A/N: As always, I don't own Darkest Powers or its characters, Kelley Armstrong does.**

**zoesouzaxoxo****: I'm planning on keeping the story line fairly close to the original, but Tulip will make some choices that will lead her away from Chloe's path. And I was horrified to hear that Tulip's ending up too much like Chloe. I read that and I was like 'Noooo! Tulip is supposed to be ****_better!_****' So I'm probably going to go back into the Doc Manger and tweak some things, hopefully turning Tulip into her own person.**

**StarFireInfinate: I have no clue if she's going to end up with Derek. I have a few ways this could go, and I haven't yet decided on one. I mean, I could blow up the world or have her end up with, say, Ramon, for example. I guess you'll have to read and see. )**

**Sorry it's (again!) short**

* * *

Dr. Gill was a small woman with a long rodent nose and bulging ratlike eyes that studied me as if _I _were the rat-one whose every twitch had to scribbled in her notebook. She seemed nice enough and listened carefully, but there was something in her eyes that seemed to warn me about her.

At first, she asked me a few questions about my life pre-Lyle House. I gave the generic answers that didn't really give her anything to go on. I could sense her frustration building with each question.

"Tell me about your brother, Zach. What was he like?" She asked me, leaning in close like my answer was the cure to cancer.

"Kind and brotherly," I replied. She'd drew back like I'd told her I was gunning for world domination.

"Yes, but what was he _like. _Did he have any interesting hobbies? Did you like his friends?"

I was pretty sure she was trying to get me to say something like, _'Oh, you know, the usual. He smokes pot and all his friends are rapists.' _Instead I said, "He likes to fix electronics and his friends are nice." _Friend, _I corrected myself in my head. _His _friend_ is nice._ Zach had family and he had Drake, and that was it.

Drake was a bit on the wild side. He knew all the drug dealers and druggies personally, not just by reputation, and he wasn't afraid to try something new. I was sure this was going to kill him someday, not that he cared. His hair was a dirty blond and he wasn't much taller than me. His eyes were either blue or bloodshot depending on whether or not he'd stayed up all night drinking. Zach and him had become friends by accident a few years before I came to stay with Zach. I guess they just met at a bus stop, started talking, and so began their bromance.

Dr. Gill and I then talked about how I'd slept; how I was eating; what I thought of the others; and, mostly, how I felt about being here. I lied about every single one of them. I was sleeping fine, the food was amazing, the others were super-duper, and I knew I had to be here to get better.

I wasn't stupid. I knew that if I told them the truth, they'd keep a closer watch on me and I'd end up staying here for months.

Dr. Gill's rat face relaxed when I told her how wonderful everything was going. "You're very mature for your age, Tulip." In other words, 'you don't fight authority, great!'

I nodded and tried to look sincere. _Yes, I'm mature. Of course, you can trust me. I just want to get better. I'm not going to fight. LIES, LIES, LIES._

"Now, tell me, have you ever heard of schizophrenia?"

I scoffed. Who hadn't? Especially on my side of town where every other day there'd be some bloke spazzing out on the street because he overdosed on meth or something.

"Tulip?"

"You think I'm _schizo?_" I barely contained my laugh. Humans saw what they wanted to be the truth, not what the truth really was.

Her mouth tightened. "We don't use that word, Tulip. In fact, we prefer not to use labels at all. But a diagnosis is a necessary part of the process. A patient must know her condition, accept and understand it before we can begin treatment." I nodded.

Her gaze softened. "Do you know what schizophrenia is?"

"Hallucinations, voices, screaming about the bugs under your skin-that sort of stuff, right?"

More lip pursing. "It's a bit more in-depth than that. What you are experiencing is what we'd call undifferentiated schizophrenia, meaning you're displaying a limited number of the primary symptoms-in your case seeing visions and hearing voices. We'll have to be vigilant and try to reduce the progression of your disability."

"Progression? You mean it can't be fixed?" I hadn't known that. I thought that they could just go to a doc and pop a few pills before coming back, good as new. It made me begin to see the world differently, like someone had just yanked up the shade on a window I'd never bothered opening.

Dr. Gill mistook my tone for worry about myself-as if-and hurried to explain. "Schizophrenia is not like the flu…It's permanent." She leaned closer and touched my knee sympathetically. "Schizophrenia-" God, did she _have _to keep repeating it? I'd gotten the message, already!- "is not a life sentence, but it is a lifelong condition. It's no different than having asthma. With lifestyle changes and medication, it can be controlled and you can lead an otherwise normal life, to the point that no one will realize you have it unless you choose to tell them."

She leaned back meeting my gaze. "Do you understand it better now?"

I nodded. _Pop some pills and eat your veggies and you'll be fine._

"Good. Then we'll begin."

Dr. Gill explained about the medication. It was supposed to keep my hallucinations at bay, but until they had the correct dosage I might experience side effects such as partial hallucinations, depression, and paranoia. I kept an interested face, but my mind kept wandering. Why bother listening if I wasn't planning on taking the pills anyways?

"You'll go through a period of depression, anger, and even denial. That's natural, and we'll deal with that in our sessions. You'll meet with me for an hour each day."

"Are their group sessions too?" I asked.

She nodded. "Every Sunday afternoon all of you will spend fifteen minutes together, discussing anything without any judgment from the others." With no judgment? Who was the woman trying to fool?

She laid her notebook on her knee and crossed her hands on her knees. "That leads us to our final topic of the day; privacy. As I'm sure you've guessed, everyone here is coping with mental issues, but that is all anyone needs to know. We will not share any information about you and the other kids shouldn't be saying anything either. Whatever you want to say, you may, but I will advise you to take it slow. Knowing someone else's opinion can affect your healing process."

I didn't say that everyone already knew. Fair was fair. I knew what was wrong with some of the people here, now they knew what was wrong with me. The information I was given had come at a hidden price. No matter; people could believe the lies they chose, the truth was all that mattered and that, at least, had stayed with me.

* * *

**A/N: Liked it? Hated it? Review please!**


End file.
